


If You'll Have Me

by mrs_d



Series: Tumblr Fics [10]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Dr. Suess, Fluff, Getting Together, Kids, M/M, Not Kid Fic, Sinusitis, Tumblr Ask Box Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-07
Updated: 2016-11-07
Packaged: 2018-08-29 13:45:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8492086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrs_d/pseuds/mrs_d
Summary: It’d been six long months of hunting down scraps about the Winter Soldier — no wonder he’d gotten sick.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Bonus points to readers (dSers) who get the title reference.
> 
> [(If you prompt me, I shall write....)](http://mrsdawnaway.tumblr.com/post/152724224444/if-you-prompt-me-i-shall-write)

Sam knew they were in trouble the second they stepped into the after-hours clinic. For one thing, he felt like absolute shit — he’d put off going to the doctor too long. But what was worse was the herd of noisy children and their haggard, sickly looking parents along the right wall. This clinic had a pediatric ward, Sam remembered belatedly; he’d seen it on the website when Steve started Googling walk-in clinics in whatever town they were visiting this week. Sam honestly couldn’t remember. It’d been six long months of hunting down scraps about the Winter Soldier — no wonder he’d gotten sick.

“This is criminal,” Steve muttered beside him.

Sam didn’t need to look over to know that Steve was currently glaring at the jam-packed waiting room with that _I’m-gonna-have-to-bust-some-heads_ gleam in his eye.

“Down, boy,” Sam murmured out of the corner of his mouth. “Or I’ll make you wait in the car.”

“Find a spot,” Steve replied, apparently unaware that this was not an empty threat. “I’ll check you in.”

Sam looked around, found an empty chair between an old man with an oxygen mask and the mother of an aforementioned screaming child. She was holding the kid on her lap — Sam’s congested popping-but-not-popping ears ached at the sound of another high-pitched wail.

“I know, shh, shh, I know,” the mother murmured, bouncing her son a little, even as she wiped her own dripping nose.

Steve, meanwhile, was having what seemed to be a deep conversation with the front clerk, who had to put callers on hold three times as the various phones on her desk rang. Sam hoped Steve wasn’t giving her a hard time; she seemed stressed enough as it was.

He squeezed his dry, tired eyes shut. Even though he’d done nothing but sleep the last couple days, this cold — or flu, or infection, whatever it was — was taking a toll, reminding him that he definitely didn’t have superpowers. He let himself be soothed by the sound of Steve’s voice, which was closer now, rising and falling in a steady, familiar cadence.

He was startled awake some time later by the nurse calling his name, and he struggled to his feet. His head throbbed with the change in elevation, and he focused on putting one foot in front of the other as he followed the nurse down the hall. He didn’t even realize that Steve wasn’t with him until the door of the exam room clicked shut.

The doctor came in a moment later, spent about five seconds examining him, and Sam left the room with a prescription for an antibiotic for sinusitis. He wandered around the in-house pharmacy while he waited for his pills, slipping back into a hazy doze, wondering where Steve went. It was weird that he hadn’t come in — they were practically living out of each other’s pockets these days, and Steve had hardly left Sam’s side since his first sneeze a week ago. Maybe Steve just wanted to give Sam some privacy. Or maybe the staff wouldn’t let him in. It wasn’t like he was Sam’s spouse or anything; though, lately, it had started to feel—

“Sam Wilson,” the pharmacist called.

Sam grabbed the package from her, listened to the instructions closely, and paid. He headed back to the waiting room with his bottle of what looked like horse pills, but he stopped in the doorway, staring at the sight before him.

Steve was seated on the floor in the children’s area, kids scattered all around him. There was even one on his shoulders, like he’d been giving her a piggyback ride, except that her face was flat against his hair, and she was fast asleep.

“I do not like them here or there,” Steve read from the book in his lap. “I do not like them anywhere. I do not like green eggs and ham. I do not like them, Sam-I-Am.”

Sam huffed out a little laugh, and Steve glanced up. He paused his reading, shot Sam a questioning look, but Sam shook his head slightly and gestured for him to continue.

Before long, the kids were chanting the rhymes with him, and Sam couldn’t help the dopey grin that had spread across his face. He caught similar expressions on the faces of the parents who were watching, chatting like old friends, even though Sam would bet that most of them had never met before tonight. Steve just did that sometimes: he brought something out in others, a sort of community spirit that worked together for the common good, even if tonight that common good just meant a distraction for sick kids and weary parents.

“I do so like green eggs and ham. Thank you, thank you, Sam-I-Am,” Steve finished, and his eyes were serious on Sam’s.

Sam felt his heart contract — Steve just did that sometimes, too: he looked at Sam with so much trust and devotion that it took Sam’s breath away, congested sinuses or not.

“I have to go,” Steve told the kids, who were already clamoring for another story. “I have to take my partner home.”

 _Partner?_ thought Sam. That sounded like— he liked the way that sounded.

“Why?” whined one of the children.

“Because he’s sick, and he needs to rest.”

“You can come back,” Sam said, and Steve looked up in surprise.

“But you—”

“I’ll be fine,” Sam promised him, even as another little pulse of pain across his forehead had him closing his eyes. “After Steve drives me home, he can come back and read you another story.”

“I can?” Steve asked.

Sam nodded, keeping his eyes closed. “If you want.”

“Okay,” Steve said, and then his hand was on the small of Sam’s back, guiding him. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

The cool night air felt good on Sam’s face. He left the truck window open as they drove, and the roar meant they didn’t get a chance to talk until they were back in their sad little motel room with its two beds. Sam had wished for months that they could share, but he hadn’t been sure how to bring it up. Now, though....

“Partner,” he said softly, as Steve helped him get back into bed.

“Uh,” said Steve, looking away. “Sorry, I didn’t— it just slipped out.”

His grip on Sam’s arm slackened, like he was going to let go, which felt to Sam like a colossally bad idea. He laid his hand over Steve’s, squeezed it.

“I like it,” he murmured.

Steve sat on the edge of the bed, fussed with Sam’s blankets a little. “You do?”

“Yeah,” said Sam, and he laughed, suddenly giddy with love and flu medication. “I do so like green eggs and ham.”

“Go to sleep, Sam-I-Am,” Steve chuckled, getting to his feet. Sam’s eyes closed again, of their own accord. “We’ll talk about this more when you’re better. But for now, you need to rest, and I have a promise to keep to a room full of Dr. Seuss fans.”

Sam nodded. He felt something soft and cool brush his tender forehead, and he looked up to see a sweet little smile on Steve’s face, and that confirmed it. They were partners — somewhere along this crazy journey they’d fallen and caught each other, and Sam knew, as sure as he knew that Steve would read stories to children at the clinic until the minute it closed, that they were stuck with each other.

“You’ll be here when I wake up,” he said, because it wasn’t a question.

“Of course,” Steve replied.

And he was.


End file.
